Redemption
by Gothic-Romantic99
Summary: You don't want to die, but you don't know how to take a life." The events that lead up to that final moment on the boat. WARNING: Contains DK spoilers.


Disclaimer I do not own The Dark Knight.

Warnings: 1) This story contains major spoilers for The Dark Knight, so if you haven't seen the movie, I suggest you watch it (the best action/superhero movie ever!) before continuing any further.

2) While rewriting this piece I added many more details, so because of the content the rating has been upped to M. This story contains: graphic violence, blood, death, dark images, alcohol and implied rape. This is just a warning to those who might not want to read that kind of material.

This is my favorite scene in the movie and focuses on this unnamed man who is the true hero of the film. Hope you enjoy!

Thank you Taio Kaiona, The Chaotic Soul of Demons, Liave Ekeli, and InSixGlasses for your reviews of the first draft. It is very much appreciated.

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I've seen so much in my thirty-eight years. I'm a thief, a con artist, and even a murderer. I've watched men die gruesome deaths, witnessed them beg for their lives, or the lives of their loved ones. Now mind you I've never targeted another man's family, but those I work with have no qualms about putting a bullet into the brain of an innocent, including a child. That's not in my line of work. I refuse to harm a child or a woman. So many times I washed blood from my hands into hotel sinks. The deep red stained the porcelain tubs. It swirled around the metal circle before falling into the drain where the water would be recycled for consumption. I've beaten men within an inch of their lives, sometimes crossing that line. But I've never harmed an innocent. Those who I am sent after are somehow involved in our business. Not one innocent. It was all for the good of the family.

It's a part of my job description to put men six feet under. Don't think I don't have a heart. I regret taking each life. I attend their funerals, watch their wives, mothers, and grandmothers weep over their corpses. I feel I deserve to see that suffering as payment for taking something that could never be returned. I regret taking life, but I have to. I know how to take a life, I've done it. It's a truth I learned in this line of work, if you don't want to die you learn how to take a life.

Twenty years I've stood on the side of the trigger. Never once had I the choice in who lives or dies, that's for the higher-ups to decide. I'm the one who does the dirty work. I'm the one who pulls the trigger. I'm the one who feels the blood splatter on my clean slacks. I stopped wearing white and beige for that very reason. I'm the one who has to watch our enemies breathe their last. And I'm the one who has to clean up the mess. It's something you get used to after a while. Still the ghosts haunt your dreams. You never get used to the nightmares, watching the same person beg for their lives only for them to meet the inevitable. It's not a pleasant job, but it pays the bills. The father gives us a guaranteed job. What more he gave me a chance to avenge those who were stolen from me. I think of my mother and my girlfriend with each life I take. How much blood must spill until it's enough to pay the debt for what was lost?

"Everything has a reason." That's what Mr. Maroni said time and again. "Don't feel guilty for the ones who have to die. They served their purpose and now it's time to rid them from our world." His face was always smug. Control, he's always about control. He wants to see everything fall into place. He wants to keep everything in order. Even with my missions I was assigned to keep those who had no place in our business out of the loop. He had his ways. He bribed the cops and judges. If there's one thing I've learned from my work it's that money has a way of corrupting men. It's a universal language. Ever since the beginning of time men were willing to sell each other out to gain wealth. Even the best of men can tarnish if enough cash is presented. It was the money that controlled the operation. It was how he stayed on top. How he stayed in control. I used to think that they would never get to him. He had the money, he had the power. Not even that stupid D.A. could break Maroni down.

That was before we met _him_.

Before him I had never seen so much panic. Even those I've seen die were only allowed a limited time to beg. Forced at gunpoint makes you relive the past, all your wrongdoings. Been a long time since I thought about the afterlife, what's waiting for me, but I don't think it'll be nice.

I knew something was off the moment they made the decision to transport us to the prison across the water. The others must've felt it too…silence. Even locked up they were never quiet, they would never let the law control us, but now they refuse to speak a word.

The citizens shouted at the guards, their words forcing their beliefs of the injustice for allowing us safety before the ones who had never harmed another soul. With a threat hanging around, us unaware of his latest attempts, it gave the city something to fear. They wanted out of Gotham and fast. None of them have any concern what happened to us as long as they were allowed to live. When denied that for the sake of us dirty crooks they became angry. I can't blame them. They still retained their consciences. They were not responsible for the blood of many.

We boarded the ferry while receiving constant threats from the officers. I sat there, keeping my eyes away from the others. I was used to the harsh treatment; I could take the threats and the glares. It was the silence that grated my nerves. I knew why the men were afraid to speak. It was how _he_ operated.

He didn't care for money, power, or anything else that drove the rest of us. No, that didn't interest him. The day I first laid eyes on him when he interrupted our meeting in the warehouse I knew he was not like us. There was something in his dark eyes that frightened me. Yes, me, someone who was selected solely for intimidation, frightened by a man in clown makeup. He had no regard for life, not even his own. I watched with fear and fascination as he revealed the explosives hidden in his jacket. The maniac was willing to blow himself to bits along with the rest of us. He only desired to see that fear. It's what made him tick. In the span of a week he managed to reduce the city to a quivering mess with his threats. That monster, not even worthy of the title of man, fought against everything the Falcone family worked to build. The order, keeping everything in its place, as long as you remained in your place no harm would befall you. It was an unwritten agreement. It was how the leaders wanted it. Many killed and were killed to keep it that way. This freakshow showed up and burnt all that to cinders. I even heard through whispers and rumors that he was behind the mysterious death of Maroni. He would not stop there. He was planning something. Something had the citizens of Gotham riled up and I know he's the one behind it.

The thoughts subsided, but they never left. The boats began to move, again everyone sat in silence. The only sound belonged to the guards' boots as they walked, careful not to step on anyone. Careful against their own feelings of wanting to harm each man aboard.

I've never been around a group so quiet. It felt like the prey waiting for the hunter to attack. Time moved slowly as we all looked at one another, unable to speak. Everyone knew he was up to something tonight. I saw it in the eyes of the civilians outside. I saw it in the faces of the guards. Everyone jumped at every move. Were everyone not on edge there might have been some humor in the situation. The tension was thick, but no one was willing to give us any information. It made me wonder if anyone had any information to give.

My eyes followed the steps of the first mate as he ran down to the control room. He looked worried. I wasn't the only one to notice as another man, one I was not acquainted with, yelled, "Hey, buddy, what's going on?" His words caught the attention of the others nearby.

He hurried back up to our level. The bodies of both prisoners and guards alike collectively moved as he ran up the stairs to speak with the captain. In his hand he held a small box. The men began whispering to one another. Even the guards looked curious and concerned.

"What's going on?" a man asked.

The guard beside him shook his head and clenched his gun.

The boat suddenly stopped. The lights flickered and a wave of chatter filled the tense air.

"I don't like this," I heard one guard whisper to another. The one who listened nodded in agreement. It was safe to assume everyone shared their apprehension.

It was then a voice came over the intercom.

"Tonight you're all gonna be a part of a social experiment," he said. Everyone knew that voice. How was it possible that a voice hidden behind a painted mask caused so many to shake with fear? "Through the magic of diesel fuel and ammonium nitrate, I'm ready right now to blow you all sky high. Anyone attempts to get off their boat, you all die."

Every eye, convict and cop, filled with fear.

The first mate and captain ran down to hand what looks like a bomb detonator to the head guard. They mentioned something, through their muffled conversation I made out something about him being a part of the bomb squad. The man took the remote in his hand and studied its formation.

That voice continued to speak, "Each of you has a remote to blow up the other boat. At midnight I blow you all up. If however, one of you presses the button, I'll let that boat live."

Their breathing was now audible.

"So who's it gonna be? Harvey Dent's most-wanted scumbag collection? Or the sweet and innocent civilians? You choose."

Timid whispers filled the room.

"Oh, and you might want to decide quickly because the people on the other boat may not be quite so noble." He then hung up which left behind a bomb of raised voices.

I saw the fear in the eyes of the other men, heard it in their shouts. For years they've been responsible for fear, but now to have lost control they could understand their victims' last moments.

I've never been one to talk; my body does the talking for me. It's what I was chosen for. My work was always for intimidation, to force the victim into doing Falcone's will, even bartering with his life. I've seen more blood than a surgeon. But it was always planned, for a reason. Never like this.

The men screamed at the officers, begging to massacre those on the other ferry. The guards are point their guns to keep them back.

Several of them were praying. I was unaware they still believed in a god. Probably praying for the first time in a long time. Living on top of things, having all fall in your favor keeps you from prayer, but when you're near death, they want to make it right. Make it right? After all that's done, wanting to make it right with God while wishing the others will die. They don't understand why they pray, just want to incase. Not the reason for prayer. I haven't thought about Heaven and Hell in years, but I don't believe the angels are waiting for me.

The men surrounded the guards all pleading for their lives.

One man fired his gun and yelled, "Sit down!"

They backed off, but continued their futile cries. If that man holding the remote had any sense he'd destroy the detonator soon before one of those cowards take it.

They have every right to be afraid. That clown has kept every promise thus far. He'd destroy us if we didn't murder the ones on the other boat. These young men don't know what they're doing. I've noticed over the years that it's fear that causes irrational actions.

It has gone too far. He was only supposed to kill Batman, not take the lives of those who would never dream taking the life of another. I heard that even before his death that Mr. Maroni regretted hiring him. Batman was the only one who was supposed to die; now he might be the only one to save the lives of the innocent men across the way.

The guards are scrambled around trying to reach out to anyone who can save us. Somehow that clown destroyed any form of communication to the outside world. The only ones they could speak to were each other and us.

I glanced over at the clock to find only five minutes had passed. Only another ten 'til the Joker kept his word.

The two men who my eye came in contact with immediately looked away. I lost sight in my right eye when I was still a teenager in a car accident, but my left eye functioned well enough for them both. Still the very appearance of my eyes caused so many to fear me. My employer liked that my eye scared people. I heard that the eyes are the keys to the soul, so perhaps a dead eye stirs up anxiety that my soul must be as wicked and blurred as its entrance.

His men accidentally came upon me my second day of eighteen. I had a job that paid little, barely enough for me and Lisa to get by. She had to work two shifts to help keep up with our payments. I watched as her skin lost its once beautiful glow. The overworked woman forced to keep a smile on her face while snuggling in my embrace. I couldn't give her the comfort to ease her many troubles and aches. I swore to myself that the second I found a way to end her torment I would accept it without hesitation. I had no knowledge that I would find it in the form of Falcone.

I was sitting on a bench one night after work, eating the remainder of a sandwich left from my lunch break when a man stopped before me. His eyes were clouded in tears and he was so short of breath he could barely speak.

He gasped at me and squeaked, "Please help me!"

I turned to find two men chasing after him.

The smaller one looked at me and yelled, "Catch that man! He's a thief!"

The other shouted, "Don't let him escape!"

Knowing how it felt to be robbed, I grabbed the man by the collar.

"Please, don't," he cried.

I stared at him and all I could see was red. Behind my eyes I saw the frantic faces of my mom and girlfriend crouching behind the kitchen table. They had been preparing a meal two hours before her second shift when the robbers broke into the house, waving a gun at the women. The leader of the two demanded Lisa give up the earrings I bought her as a birthday present. They were only ten karats, but they only saw the glittering gold. She handed them over with no hesitation. He then turned his attention to my mother's jewelry. She complied, but he wanted her wedding ring as well. She refused to relinquish the only memory of her late husband and he smacked her in the face with the barrel of his gun. My girlfriend pulled off the ring off my unconscious mother's finger and tossed it across the kitchen. The other two grabbed what they could carry and left. They paid no heed to Lisa's tears. They did not hear my mother's sobs upon realizing she would never again see the ring the man she loved placed on her finger at the church almost twenty years before.

"Please don't let them!" he yelled.

I tossed him towards the two men now in front of me. He scurried to get away but I kicked him in the side. I promised that I would never allow another thief to escape justice. The memory of my loved ones' tears would forever haunt me. The stranger attempted to get away a second time, but thanks to my interference he had not the time. The smaller of his pursuers pulled a pistol out of his jacket and shot him four times in the back.

I looked at him and he smiled. Had I known what he'd do I'd never have trapped him. Soon I'd lose that way of thinking.

"He stole from us," he said reaching into the dead man's pocket. He pulled out a roll of twenties. "Tried to make a profit," he said putting the cash in his own jacket. "Mr. Falcone wouldn't like that at all."

"Though he may like you," the other man said.

I glared at both of them, "I don't like your work."

"You don't have much a choice," the larger man said grabbing my arm.

I pulled my arm free and bashed him in the face, breaking his nose.

The other man cocked the gun and pointed it at me.

"That's enough," said a man from the inside of a limo. I never even heard the vehicle pull up. The man stepped out of the limousine wearing a suit of fine, white fabric.

"Salvatore Maroni," he said shaking my hand. "Come inside, we have much to discuss."

I'd never been inside a limo before so the offer was tempting. After dinner and the details given by the man directly under Falcone, I began working for the family. Lisa liked the benefits of the job, but never asked for the details. As long as she remained content with ignorance I gave her that luxury. I gave her my word that I would take care of her. Had I known that the job would cost her her life I never would have taken it.

The brothers of one I had to get rid of found my address and came to visit Lisa when I was away. Thankfully I did not have to hear her screams as he forced himself upon her. I didn't have to watch her writhe as she struggled to kick and punch him away while the eldest penetrated and defiled her. I didn't have to see the blade shred her. I only saw the aftermath, the many mutilations, the face of the one I loved could hardly be recognized behind the lacerations. I never got the names of the men who caused her pain and death, but I swore that the day I saw their faces, the same faces I caught on the frames of the tape, I would make them suffer.

Three years after Lisa's death I found them sitting inside a bar. I patiently sipped my Bacardi waiting for them to take their leave. I grabbed my black jacket and took after their stumbling forms. I kept my distance and waited for them to turn down a deserted pathway. When the moment presented itself I struck. They never saw me coming. I basked in their screams. I felt Lisa's soul find rest with each slice of my dagger. The blood pooled around the cement. I heard the sirens closing in on me, but I only wanted them to suffer a death worse than Hell. They committed a crime against an innocent, that's something I could never forgive.

Maroni was not happy with my revenge, but he cleaned up the scene anyway. The cops were given enough to keep their mouths shut. He warned me to never go after another without his permission. I agreed, having taken the lives of the ones I desired to see dead. It was as Maroni preached for the two decades I worked under him, we had to keep order. Now that they were dead I could focus only on the blood the family wanted spilled without any distractions.

That logic could not be applied to the current situation. There was no reasoning with this madman. I found myself staring at the clock once again. Only two minutes had passed since the last time I checked. The men were still yelling.

"What are you waiting for? Just push the button!" one screamed. The men were getting desperate.

"We're running out of time!" another shouted.

Afraid for their own lives.

I remembered something that Falcone told me the first and only time I met him. It was after his closest bodyguard was shot in the line of duty. How he managed to keep that out of the press is beyond me. He probably paid off the reporters or threatened to have them taken out. At the funeral he refused to shed a tear.

When I questioned him he told me, "Never fear death and never give into remorse." With those words he left. I never saw him again. I heeded his advice. I pretended not to feel remorse, after all those who came across me were not innocent. They deserved to have their blood spilled into the greedy ground.

But this time was different. These people have done nothing to cross us. They're just toys in the Joker's game. He agrees with Falcone's philosophy to an extreme, he fears nothing. There is no remorse in his heart. But more, he enjoys all the harm he causes. He's not human. He has slowly been passing that insanity onto the city.

Another ten minutes had passed and the people refused to settle down. Some of them accepted their fate. They realized that the guard will not press that button no matter how much they threaten or taunt him. Others continued in their attempts to change his mind.

"Why you trying to be a hero?" a man asked him.

He pretended not to hear.

"Why you gonna let us die?" another prisoner asked.

"How many have you let die?" one of the guards with a shotgun asked him.

He replied by spitting in the guard's face and sat down. The guard let him get away with the action, for what use was there in reprimanding a man who was about to see the pits of Hell.

Those who refused to surrender were the ones who I know to be the most ruthless of the bunch. I heard one of them wish the worst to happen to the innocent citizens.

It's only a bit longer before they kill us. Everyone knew the Joker will kill. It scared them. They've never been scared before, not even afraid of prison. But they all feared that clown. With every passing second their patience waned. The clock showed two minutes before the Joker completed his promise.

My eye met the clock for the last time. I can't take anymore. I've had enough of the madness.

I stood up, gaining silence from all those around me. They must believe I'm the one who will grant them salvation. I move towards the head guard, everyone moving out of my way. Not one man on this boat had ever heard me say more than a sentence in his lifetime.

I stand right in front of the head guard. He looks intimidated as do all who have seen me this close. Even with my hands shackled it's obvious he doesn't want to risk his chances with me.

My working eye stared into his. "You don't want to die," I said to him. "But you don't know how to take a life." The other men backed away, some of them smiling.

"He'll do it," one of the convicts whispered.

"Give it to me," I demanded. "These men will kill you and take it anyways."

He hesitated.

"Do it!" one of the men shouted.

His hands were shaking. He looked at the other guards for advice. None of them had any to give. He couldn't read his own men, they were just as scared as us, but like him they would never wish to steal another man's life in order to save their own.

"Give it to me," I repeated with more force while keeping my voice low. "You can tell them I took it by force." The other men held their breath, standing in all silence, waiting for him to hand it over. Hoping if he didn't comply that I would keep my threat and snatch it away. I ignored the hope in their faces. There is only one choice to make and if I'm the only one with enough guts to do it then so be it. "Give it to me and I'll do what you should've did ten minutes ago."

He must've realized that I was not going to leave until I got what I wanted. He hesitantly handed it over. I grasped the detonator in my hands. I felt all eyes on me, but I didn't care. I'm not used to making the decisions, but no one else possessed the courage tonight to do what I must. To end all that insanity. To hinder the Joker.

I turned away from the crowd and tossed the remote out the window. It hits the side then falls into the water.

The head guard jerked his head and stared at me, completely speechless. In that one moment we understood each other. From that look in his eyes I could see him praising my courage, my selfless sacrifice for the good men on the other boat. Everyone on my boat fell silent. Many of them looked away as I made my back to my seat. I saw a few of them crying, emotions I thought none of them remembered they possessed. I supposed it was true, even the strongest of men can feel fear.

One man beside me touched my shoulder.

"You did good," he says then bowed his head.

It's definite, we will die tonight.

And _only_ us.

Only seconds remain before the time is up. Hopefully those on the other boat kill heed the Joker's words, and take the lives of the ones who had stolen the lives of innocents. Life for life. They've done nothing wrong. The Joker made it clear that there will be death and it's only right that it should be us.

I can't let an innocent man die tonight for our sins.

I didn't know if that one action would spare me from swimming in the lake of flames for the rest of eternity. I don't think it would make up for all pain that I've cause. But all I asked was for God hear my prayer and keep those on the other boat from meeting with death tonight. There's only one who should die and as always, I don't want innocent blood to spill on our behalf.


End file.
